


there might be nothing to living

by idaate



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Gen, Spoilers, alternatively titled: mocha finally caves and writes a pregame fic, narrator: but it was not a good idea and it would not work out fine, pregame, saihara voice: this is a good idea and will work out fine!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-10-16 03:36:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10562898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idaate/pseuds/idaate
Summary: [ MAJOR V3 SPOILERS ]Ouma smiles uncomfortably. “You really loveDanganronpa,don’t you, Saihara-kun?”Saihara stabs the desk with his box cutter, a smirk on his face. “You bet I do.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> I put this in the summary, but I'll state it here once again; this fic contains major spoilers for the entirety of ndrv3! Please proceed at your own discretion if you don't want to be spoiled for the game.

“Amami was the sacrifice  _ again!”  _ Saihara cries, scrolling through his twitter feed on his phone. “That’s never happened! Four fucking times in a row...God, we hadn’t even had a double sacrifice before this kid, let alone a quadruple sacrifice. It’s probably rigged at this point, honestly.”

Ouma looks up in mild interest from his notebook. “You always complain about getting spoiled before you get home to watch the episode, but you don’t really try to avoid spoilers very hard.” He notes. Saihara rolls his eyes, tipping his cap down.

“Well, now I owe Kagehira two thousand yen.” He groans. “That kid is getting  _ so  _ much money off of me. Manipulating me. He probably has some sort of psychic powers, and can tell the future, you know?”

“...Saihara-kun, I’m fairly certain that you were the one who approached Kagehira-kun about the bet in the first place.” Ouma points out tentatively.

Saihara laughs and picks up the box cutter on his desk, toying with it in between his fingers. “Guilty as charged!” He hums as Ouma shudders nervously. “Ugh, but seriously, what were the chances of Amami surviving so far and then volunteering as a sacrifice for the  _ fourth fucking time?  _ He deserves the winners’ reward more so than any of the past winners. His luck is going to run out anytime now, and then he’s going to kick the bucket. Kinda fucked up, don’t you think? To survive so many killings and trials and stuff and just giving yourself up at the end, when you gain nothing from it...like,  _ damn,  _ you know?”

“Yeah...it is pretty messed up.” Ouma agrees.  _ “Danganronpa  _ in general...I think it’s pretty messed up.”

Saihara groans, and Ouma flinches. “Ouma, don’t tell me you’re one of  _ those  _ people.” The taller boy drawls.

“W-what do you mean?” Ouma stutters.

“One of those people who’re like ‘let’s stop  _ Danganronpa!  _ People shouldn’t die like that!’ like. Buddy.” Saihara leans forward. “These kids volunteered for it - people  _ compete  _ with each other to die on live television. If they want to die like that, well then, let them. It’s a cool way to die, at the very least, and there sure aren’t many cool ways to die left.”

Ouma smiles uncomfortably. “You really love  _ Danganronpa,  _ don’t you, Saihara-kun?”

Saihara stabs the desk with his box cutter, a smirk on his face. “You bet I do.”

 

.

 

“Hey, wait up a second!”

Ouma’s bike slows to a stop, the slightly-rusted metal letting out a grating screech. Ouma places his foot on the ground and gets off the bike, looking behind at Saihara. “I thought you were sleeping in today, since you were marathoning season forty seven  _ Danganronpa  _ last night!” He comments as Saihara gets to his side, panting. “Did you decide to wait for a not-school night for your marathon?”

“Oh, no.” Saihara wheezes. “I decided to marathon season forty seven  _ and  _ forty eight, so I just didn’t sleep in the first place. I’m running on nothing but caffeine, buddy.” He rubs Ouma’s head affectionately, causing the boy to flinch slightly before covering it up with a nervous laugh.

“That doesn’t exactly seem...healthy.” Ouma hums. “You really should get more rest, Saihara-kun. For your own well being!” 

“Those seasons are  _ classics,  _ Ouma.” Saihara drawls. “In season forty seven, we had the drummer catch on fire and die in front of everyone! A live death! And in season forty eight, we had not one but  _ two triple murders!  _ Unfortunately, that makes for a very short season, but nothing good in life tends to last very long in the first place.” 

He shrugs, pulling out a pack of caffeinated gum and popping a piece in his mouth. “Want one?” He offers, but Ouma shakes his head.

“Those are too strong for me.” He says.

“Suit yourself.” Saihara hums, pocketing the gum pack. He chews noisily, looking around at the street. It’s one of those streets that’s falling apart - like most streets are, nowadays - with bricks sticking out of walls covered in graffiti, and those that aren’t covered in graffiti are falling apart.

A piece of paper flies by in the wind, and absentmindedly, Saihara catches it. “Y-you’ve got really good reflexes.” Ouma comments.

“Thanks!” Saihara smiles, preparing to ball the paper up and toss it away in the trash can - we’ve only got one earth, after all - when the  _ Danganronpa  _ logo catches his eye, and he finds himself pausing. Curiously, he unravels the paper. 

Ouma peers over his shoulder. “W-what is it?”

“Ouma.” Saihara’s breath is heavy with excitement.

“...yes?”

“The auditions for the fifty third season of  _ Danganronpa.”  _ He squeals, shoving the flier into Ouma’s grasp. The smaller boy flounders, trying to get a good grasp on the paper. “They’re going to happen only forty five minutes away if we take the train. From here, I mean. It’s in a  _ totally  _ accessible place.”

Ouma looks over the paper before gingerly handing it back to Saihara. “Uhm, that’s cool and all, but…”

“But?”

“You’re not planning on actually auditioning, are you? You’re perfect for the show, so you’ll probably get in, and...and…”

Saihara smiles. “Aw, are you worried about me?”

Ouma bites his lip, nods, and that makes Saihara laugh.

“Hey, don’t worry about it! I’m going to be a-okay. I wouldn’t audition - not when...uh.” Saihara tries to think of a good excuse for him  _ not  _ to audition to the fifty third season of  _ Danganronpa,  _ but, frankly, he can’t think of anything off the top of his head. Ouma sighs.

“Just...promise me you won’t.” He says, holding out his pinky finger. After a moment’s hesitation, Saihara reaches out with his own pinky and shakes it, causing Ouma to smile.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t leave you behind.” Saihara resolves.

Despite saying that, he still folds the flier up with gentle fingers, placing it into his backpack with a certain sense of holiness.

 

.

 

The phone in Saihara’s hand buzzes, displaying Ouma’s contact as the caller. He presses ‘accept’, placing the phone by his ear as the computer screen reflects in his eyes. “Yeah, hello!”

_ “Hello, Saihara-kun!”  _ Ouma’s nervous voice pipes through the phone’s speakers.  _ “Some new information on the fifty third season came out, so I thought it’d be best if I inform you on it! If you haven’t searched it up already, of course.” _

“Nah, I took a shower and did some homework. I haven’t had a chance to catch up on any information they released, so hit me up.” Saihara flops onto his bed, belly down with his feet up in the air. 

_ “Okay, then!”  _ Ouma hums.  _ “Amami-kun will be returning this season, obviously, but they decided to add a special new student to the mix - a robot!” _

Saihara blinks. “Pardon?”

_ “Yeah, that was my reaction too. A-apparently, it’s supposed to be a way for the audience to participate with things. They can kind of...vote on his actions? Not every single one of his actions, of course, because that would get quite overwhelming and far from enjoyable, but…”  _ Ouma makes a curious noise on the other end of the line.  _ “I think it’s an interesting enough concept, don’t you?” _

“Oh, so you agree that it’s interesting? That  _ Danganronpa  _ is interesting?” Saihara quirks an eyebrow, even though he knows Ouma can’t see, and Ouma sputters awkwardly.

_ “Well, if it’s something that you enjoy, then I’ll support you.”  _ He finally says.  _ “E-even if I don’t like it particularly myself, I’ll support your interests and everything. If that what makes you happy, then I’m here for you!”  _ There’s an extra long pause, and then,  _ “You can’t see it r-right now, because we’re having a phone call, but I’m giving you a thumbs up.” _

Saihara chuckles. “Aw, thanks, Ouma.” He hums. “That’s really sweet of you to say! I appreciate it. Thanks for letting me know about the robot! He  _ does  _ sound pretty cool.”

_ “Oh, I know, right?”  _ Ouma agrees.  _ “They’re calling him ‘Kiibo’! L-like, after ‘hope’ and stuff, which loops all the way back around to the themes of the original game, which makes me wonder which direction they’ll take the plot this season. The, uhm, h-hope versus despair thing is a boring gimmick at this point, but it’s still pretty popular, so _ —”

Saihara falls asleep to the sound of Ouma’s strained and forced voice, a smile fit perfectly on his face.

 

.

 

Saihara finds himself tapping his foot anxiously against the fence as lunch period rolls around, glancing over at the clock as he tip his cap up. He and Ouma don’t share many classes, not this year, not anymore, but at the very least they make sure to share lunch together on the roof. Sometimes, if the wifi connection is good that day and there’s a season airing, Saihara will stream the latest episode live. For the most part, though, they wad up pieces of bread and throw them down, down, down on the ground below, maybe hitting someone in the head and unknowingly giving them a gross addition to their hair day, maybe not.

But Saihara didn’t bring any bread today, and so when Ouma bursts through the doors with a “sorry I’m late, I made some extra fancy bento boxes today and could you maybe try them out” on his lips, Saihara can’t stop himself from spilling.

“I’m auditioning for  _ Danganronpa.” _

Ouma freezes. “W-what?”

“I’ve decided I’m going to audition for the fifty third season of  _ Danganronpa.”  _ Saihara continues, a grin creeping onto his face and hands getting sweaty with excitement. “Yeah. I’m gonna do it. I love  _ Danganronpa  _ more than literally anything in the world, and...and I’ve already thought up of an execution for myself and a plot and everything! It’s going to be such a brilliant audition, and I’ll get in for sure, and —”

He’s cut off as Ouma slaps him as hard as he can across his face (which isn’t very hard at all). Nonetheless, he rubs his face and scowls at the smaller boy.

“Hey! What was that for?”

“Are y-you  _ stupid?!”  _ Ouma stutters. “If you get in you’re going to  _ die!” _

“Not necessarily!” Saihara points out, and Ouma scoffs.

“You literally just admitted to having your own execution planned out. You’ve  _ planned out your ideal death,  _ Saihara-kun. That’s…” Ouma breathes, rubbing his hands through his hair. “Saihara-kun, I don’t  _ understand.” _

“What is there to understand?” Saihara bites. “All my life, for as long as I can remember, I’ve been a  _ Danganronpa  _ fan. And now I have the chance to do something I love...does  _ that  _ make sense to you? Don’t you want me to be happy?”

It’s a low blow, and Saihara knows that, but his words have made an impact and that’s what matters. Ouma’s eyes divert from the other boy’s, and he inhales shakily, fingers making knots in the fabric of his shirt.

“Y-yeah, I do.” Ouma finally relents, and Saihara grins. “I’m...here to support you.”

 

.

 

They take the train together, Ouma’s tiny frame pressed up against Saihara because there’s too many people here at this hour, even though the two of them skipped school in order to make it. Ouma’s trembling, and Saihara assumes it’s from excitement because who the hell wouldn’t be excited about this?

Unless he’s nervous that Saihara might fail the audition, which is reasonable enough, he supposes.

Apparently many of the other teenagers on the train had also been planning on auditioning for  _ Danganronpa  _ \- who knew, right - and Saihara glares at them. He really doesn’t need the competition, and frankly, Ouma could be helping a lot here by offering him some sort of encouraging words or  _ something,  _ but no. The kid remains silent. 

Well, whatever. 

The building is easy enough to locate, with a big sign boasting neon letters that scream ‘NEW DANGANRONPA V3 AUDITIONS!!!’. There are several escorts by the door, and Saihara hands them several bills as an entrance fee.

“Right this way!” One of the ushers says, guiding Saihara and Ouma down carpeted hallways. Their journey isn’t very long, and soon enough, they arrive at a theatre. It’s practically bursting to the walls with other hopefuls, most of which sport numbers on their back.

“Have you registered online?” The usher asks, and Saihara nods. “Wonderful! In that case, simply go to the registration counter and state your name. They’ll give you your name and number tag. After that, just wait until you’re called and enter over there!” The usher motions behind the scarlet curtain on the theatre’s stage. “Your audition will begin then. Best of luck!”

“You can still back out, you know.” Ouma whispers the moment the usher is out of hearing range. “You...you don’t have to  _ do  _ this.”

“Ouma, I  _ want  _ to do this.” Saihara says patiently for what feels like the thousandth time. “This...this is my  _ dream.  _ To participate in  _ Danganronpa... _ there’s nothing I want more in life. You wouldn’t stop me from doing that,” He adds, raising an eyebrow as he looks the shorter boy in the eye, “would you?”

Ouma bites his lip and averts his gaze. “That d-doesn’t mean I can’t wish otherwise.” He whispers, and Saihara scowls, pulling his hat lower over his eyes.

“Suit yourself.”

But Saihara nails the audition. He knows he does, when he walks in there and all he does is talk and talk and talk and the judges smile and smile and smile. He’s a little bit nervous during the whole ordeal, but that’s probably to his advantage, right? Can’t have too dull of a personality, even if they’re going to build him from the ground up when he inevitably gets in.

Ouma’s sweating bullets when Saihara returns to the theatre, not even noticing him at first until the boy places a hand on his shoulder and he jumps up like he’s been shocked. “O-oh!” He stutters. “Uhm...how did it go?”

“Perfectly.” Saihara breathes. “If I don’t get in, it’s rigged for sure, because I definitely nailed that audition.”

Ouma’s laugh is strained, and Saihara sighs. “Well, if you’re going to be that much of a downer about it, then let’s, like, go —”

“No!” Ouma’s voice cuts in, and Saihara pauses. “I—I…”

He’s trying to find the words to say, but he’s struggling severely, and Saihara stares. Suddenly, it clicks.

“Oh! Do you want to audition, too?”

“Wh—” Ouma looks up.

“Holy shit, we can be in a game together! Oh  _ God,  _ how come I didn’t think of this!” Saihara slaps his forehead. “Ouma, you’re a  _ genius.  _ If one of us doesn’t get in, then the other surely will, and if we  _ both  _ get in then you can solve my murder and figure me out and oh my  _ God.”  _ He breathes, and feels that familiar sensation of a flush painting his face. “This...this is perfect.”

Ouma simply stares at him. “W-well, I don’t know if I can still sign up, because you had to sign up online after all...there are so many other people, a-and—”

Saihara snorts and pats Ouma on the back. “Now, don’t you worry yourself none, my little buddy.” He hums. “The signup process is ridiculously simple. You don’t  _ have  _ to sign up online, either, I just did because, like, why the fuck not, you know?” He shrugs. “I’ll fetch you some papers right now, okay? Just answer their questions as honestly as you can and, uhm, if you don’t have a good answer for like...what you can bring to the table, just say that you’re  _ totally  _ alright with them doing whatever they want to your memories and personality, no matter how fucked they make it up to be. They always dig that, since some people set some really strict boundaries and don’t give them creative liberty.”

Ouma blinks. “I…” He inhales shakily and loosens his collar. “Y-you...you know what? Alright. I’ll audition.”

Saihara grins wildly and lifts Ouma up in a hug. “You  _ won’t  _ regret this, promise!” He says, placing the boy back down again. “Now, let me just fetch those papers, alright? Don’t go anywhere!”

The smaller boy doesn’t respond, but Saihara takes it as an affirmative anyway as he walks towards the registration counter, a skip in his step.

 

.

 

They (Saihara) decide to go out to reward themselves after Ouma’s interview was finished. Despite the smaller boy’s trembling, Saihara pats him firmly on the back as they exit the building (with complimentary water bottles). “How do you think you did?” He hums, but the only response Ouma gives him is a tight lipped nod. Well, good enough. Saihara’s the one who needs to get into  _ Danganronpa,  _ not Ouma.

There’s a small cafe not a long walk’s away from the audition place, so they decide to stop by there. Saihara digs into his wallet and, after glancing over at Ouma, orders two crepes - a strawberry and a blueberry, thank you very much. He hands the strawberry one off to Ouma, who accepts it with a quiet ‘thank you’ before digging into his own crepe.

Even though it’s still pretty early in the day, Saihara opens up the umbrella at a table outside in order to provide them shade. They both sit down, Saihara going through his crepe while Ouma stares at his own, untouched save for a small nibble. “Aw, not hungry?” Saihara mumbles around his crepe. “If you don’t want it, I can have it, you know.”

“N-no...that won’t be necessary.” Ouma reassures. “Uhm...Saihara-kun?”

“Yeah?”

“Today...today was fun.  _ Is  _ still fun, a-actually. Thanks for hanging out with me.” He laughs timidly. “I know that I’m oftentimes not the best company, a-and I drag people down since I’m quiet and nonathletic and —”

“Don’t say that about yourself!” Saihara frowns and leans forward. “Ouma, you’re, like, my  _ only  _ friend.”

“A-ah, well…” Ouma flushes a bright pink.

“You’re the only one who’ll listen to me talk about  _ Danganronpa  _ for hours on end!”

Ouma’s tentative smile dies on his lips.

“And you’re super smart!” Saihara hurriedly continues on. “You could have your absolute  _ pick  _ of friends. Honestly, I’m touched that you want to hang out with  _ me.”  _ He smiles. “But I agree with you. Today was fun.”

 

.

 

It’s four in the morning and Saihara’s well into the thirty second season when he gets a phone call. It’s from Ouma, so he picks up without hesitation. “Ouma? What are you —” He’s interrupted by his own yawn, but Ouma doesn’t waste a second interjecting.

_ “S-Saihara-kun!”  _ He stutters through the phone, and Saihara wonders why he sounds so hysterical.  _ “Saihara-kun, h-have you checked your emails?” _

He’s tired, so it takes him a moment to figure that out. “...nope, don’t think so. Why, did something happen?”

Ouma laughs statically from the other side of the phone, and Saihara finds a twinge of worry in his throat.  _ “Just...just check your emails, alright?”  _ There’s defeat in Ouma’s voice.  _ “Y-you’ll understand once you see it.” _

“Alright, then.” Saihara pauses the episode, which had reached a particularly boring part - that time between the last trial and the next motive release was always boring, what with people wiping each other’s tears and whispering false promises of ‘no more killing’ in hopes of comforting each other - and tabs into his emails.

_ “D-do you see it yet?” _

“It’s loading, jeez! Hold your horses.”

_ “Alright. S-sorry.” _

Saihara’s eyes narrow blearily as he tries to read through his line of emails. At first, there’s nothing but the usual - useless ads, annoying reminders from colleges he’s never heard of, updates from his favorite fanfics, an acceptance email from Team  _ Danganronpa _ —

Wait.

His breath catches in his throat as he clicks that email. Sure enough, there’s several lengthy paragraphs detailing Saihara’s acceptance, along with a pdf with a list of the other accepted names. With trembling fingers, Saihara opens the document.

He skims through the names, trying to catch something he recognizes, and sure enough, several places under his own name is  _ ‘Ouma Kokichi’. _

“Oh my God.” He whispers.

_ “Did you see it?!”  _ Ouma stutters.  _ “Saihara-kun _ —”

“This is great!” Saihara laughs. “We...we both made it. We’re going to be in  _ Danganronpa  _ together. I...something this good hasn’t happened to me in years. Ha, imagine Kagehira’s face when he finds out we got in and he didn’t, ‘cause he auditioned too, y’know—”

_ “Saihara-kun, no.”  _ Ouma’s voice is uncharacteristically frantic, different from the usual quiet nervousness that cloaks itself around the boy.  _ “I...I don’t want to do this!” _

Saihara frowns. “What do you mean? I know you were reluctant at first, but didn’t...didn’t you want to support—”

_ “There’s a difference between supporting you and getting killed on live television, Saihara-kun!”  _ Ouma’s clearly sobbing on the other end of the line, and Saihara doesn’t know what to do.

“Ouma, it’s going to fine!” Saihara says, but his voice is strained. “You’re not going to die—”

_ “Yes I  _ _am.”_ Ouma says it with such a disturbing firmness that Saihara is shocked into silence.  _ “I’m definitely going to die there.” _

Saihara can’t say anything as Ouma sobs on the other line, endless staticked mantras of  _ “I don’t want to die”  _ and  _ “I’m so so sorry”  _ pouring through the phone’s speakers.

The call goes on into the early hours of the morning, Saihara trying to offer meaningless comforts but failing because it’s his fault, even if Ouma isn’t saying it. He stares at the pdf that he opened, the names of the people who could very well be his potential killers (or victims) burn into his mind, until he’s certain that he could never forget them, not even if he tried, not even if his memories were wiped and replaced with a detective’s.

 

.

 

They sit on the school’s rooftop, Saihara scrolling through his twitter feed once again. Ouma brought another pair of bento boxes with him, though both remain unopened and untouched. Which is a shame, Saihara thinks, because Ouma’s food is  _ really  _ good.

“Exactly seven days till the game!” Saihara hums after seeing someone tweeting about counting the days down to the new season. “You know, we don’t even  _ have  _ to go to school anymore. We’ll either be dead or with more money than we know what to do with in a couple months, after all. Academics really shouldn’t be that much of an issue.”

Ouma nods timidly. “That’s a fair enough point, but I’m still going to study for tomorrow’s test.”

“You do you, buddy.” Saihara pokes his bento box. “You used a special ribbon this time to tie it all up, huh.”

“I wouldn’t call it  _ special,  _ but yeah.” Ouma looks at the ribbon. “I decided to splurge a little bit and get some fancy gold ribbons before the game began. Do you like it?”

“Hell yeah, I do.” Saihara tenderly picks up the box, unravelling the ribbon carefully before placing it in his pocket and patting it down. Taking off the cover of the box, he raises an eyebrow and motions at the contents. “Sausage octopi?”

“Yeah!” Ouma nods. “I wanted to do a bunch of things that I kept holding off on doing before the game. Making sausage octopi was one of them, and…”

“Oho? There are more?”

Without a word, Ouma withdraws a package of cigarettes from his pocket. Saihara lets out a low whistle.

“Well, excuse  _ me  _ Mister caffeinated-gum-is-too-strong-for-me! I can’t believe actual angel  _ Ouma Kokichi  _ has secretly wanted to  _ smoke,  _ of all things! And on  _ school grounds…!  _ What a rebel!”

Ouma giggles tentatively. “I heard it sucks the first couple times, but, well...there i-is a first time for everything, right?” He pauses. “I...forgot a lighter, sorry. Do you…?”

“Already ahead of you.” Saihara confirms, rummaging through his pocket past his box cutter to grab the neon orange lighter and toss it over to Ouma. The smaller boy fumbles with it for a couple seconds before mumbling a quiet ‘thanks’ and using it to light a cigarette. He hands the first cigarette over to Saihara, who holds it patiently while Ouma lights the second one.

“O-okay! We’re going to do it at the same time, alright?” Ouma’s eyes are alight with fear and excitement, and Saihara nods in confirmation.

“Yeah!”

“A-alright, then! One, two, three —”

The two simultaneously inhale deeply and cough violently, shoulders shaking as their lungs reject the smoke. Saihara’s head feels dizzy, though whether from adrenaline or the disgusting taste of smoke, he isn’t quite sure. When they both calm down enough to look at each other with watering eyes, though, there are silly grins plastered on each of their faces.

“Let’s do that again!” Ouma suggests.

“Ouma, you’re  _ full  _ of surprises today!” Saihara notes, and Ouma’s grin only widens as a flush paints his cheeks.

“A-ah, thank you!” He murmurs. “I think. Anyway, let’s count off again! One, two, three!”

The rooftop is filled with a delightful combination of their coughs and laughter.

 

.

 

“God, I’m  _ scared.” _

“I know, I know.” Saihara looks out the train’s window, fingers tapping on his knee anxiously. “The memory procedure or whatever is fairly painless from what I’ve heard, though, so we don’t need to worry about that, alright?”

“...that’s not what I was referring to, b-but thanks for the reassurance anyway.” Ouma looks at his hands. “We’re...not going to know each other inside the game, are we?”

“Eh, hell if I know.” Saihara shrugs. “We don’t actually get that much info about who they’ll make us to be, but they usually take the contestant’s input from their auditions into consideration when making the characters. I’m praying to  _ God  _ that they’ve made me the detective.” Saihara claps his hands together in prayer. “What did you say during your audition?”

“U-uhm...just what you told me. About letting them do whatever they want, and taking creative liberties, a-and...stuff.”

“Oh.” Saihara strokes his chin, and Ouma’s fists tighten. “Well, I’m sure it’ll go fine! You’re too good of a person for them to mess up  _ too  _ much. Even if they tried to make you the most evil person in the game, I think your kind self would shine through in the end for certain. And super evil characters are never that popular, not usually, ‘cause people get grossed out by them, so there have been less and less of those in recent seasons.”

“...alright, then.” Ouma whispers and looks away. “Hey, if...if w-we don’t get out of the game together, I want you to know, that...erhm.”

Saihara stares as Ouma tries to compose himself. “I...I’m really glad you were my friend. I hope we both s-survive, or if I don’t...that you do.”

The taller boy laughs and pats Ouma on the back. “Oh, if anyone here has a greater chance of survival, it’s you! I’m excited for my execution that I planned out, after all.”

Saihara hums to himself happily, and Ouma does not respond.

 

.

 

There’s a cute girl by Saihara’s side as they walk into the gym. Saihara recognizes more of the people there than he thought he would - there’s Amami Rantarou, in the flesh, and the robot (Kaibo? Keebler? something along those lines) that Ouma had detailed to him over the phone. And there’s Ouma himself, standing near - oh, wasn’t that Ouma’s bully from middle school? Gonta Goku...something. Well, hopefully he wouldn’t be a problem, or the whole memory thing would fix him right up.

The Monokumerz walk in and Saihara can feel himself heating up from excitement, talking about their talents and about how lucky they are and  _ God the grin on his face is so ridiculously stupid but he doesn’t care. _

He has never been this happy before, Saihara thinks, and then Saihara stops thinking altogether.

 

.

 

There’s something strange about how the Super High-School Level Supreme Leader, Ouma Kokichi, carries himself, Saihara decides. Well, it had been apparent that Ouma wasn’t a typical teen, not when he unabashedly asked if “robots had dicks” in front of someone he just  _ met.  _

Saihara stares as Ouma affectionately nicknames him, calling him his ‘beloved’ without a second thought, and Saihara wonders why Ouma isn’t stuttering —

...except, why would he wonder that? The detective has just met Ouma, after all, and everything about the boy is a mystery, from his lying philosophy to his so-called evil organization.

After little thought, Saihara decides that he’d rather not associate himself with Ouma.

**Author's Note:**

> this isn't even my primary pre-game headcanon for either saihara or ouma but these kinds of things are fun to write aha,
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos if you enjoyed!


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